


Ringing Through the Rafters

by Em_Jaye



Series: Good Madness [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drama, Elementary School, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Parenthood, Protective Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness"-Neil GaimanHoliday Pageant





	Ringing Through the Rafters

**Author's Note:**

> Just more holiday fluff to kick 2018 into submission. The product of watching too much Big, Little Lies and realizing that I haven't showed Darcy learning how to deal with other parents.
> 
> Enjoy!

Darcy shoved the front door closed behind her and shimmied out of her coat in a hurried rush of cold and panic. “Hey!” she called, hopping out of her work shoes and tossing them in the basket in the foyer. “I’m home,” she scooped up her purse and Charlotte’s school bag and hung them both on the rack. “Sorry I’m so late!”

“We’re up here,” Steve’s voice floated down the stairs.

She took them two at a time and headed down the hall, yanking her hair from its bun and untucking her t-shirt from her jeans. She found them in the bathroom, Charlotte standing on her step-stool to be able to see in the mirror and Steve standing behind her, his hands buried in her blonde hair, carefully weaving a French braid. He was already dressed in a button-down and dress pants and Charlotte was wearing the black taffeta dress Natasha had brought back for her from her trip home at Thanksgiving. It was sleeveless and had little rhinestones sewn in a swirling pattern all along the skirt.

“Hey,” Darcy huffed breathlessly. “Traffic was insane, and the buses were all behind schedule.” She leaned in and dropped a kiss first to Charlotte’s cheek and then to Steve’s.

Charlotte frowned. “You’re not that late,” she said, trying to look at Darcy head-on.

“Don’t move,” Steve warned, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t want to have to start this over.” Quickly, his eyes shot over to Darcy before he returned his full attention to the task before him. “You’re fine,” he promised with a quick smile. “We’ve still got about forty minutes before we have to leave.”

Darcy grimaced at her own reflection in the mirror. “I’ve had less time to get this mess together,” she reminded herself and fluffed her tangled curls for effect. Charlotte laughed as Darcy retreated to her and Steve’s bedroom and started rummaging for something presentable. She found a nice pair of black pants and a white silk shirt that didn’t need to be ironed. The clothes were thrown on the bed while she sprayed down her hair with the water bottle and scrunched some curl cream into it, trying to make it look like she hadn’t had it up in a bun for the last twelve hours.

Through all the open doors, she could still here Steve and Charlotte in the bathroom next door. “You wanna do it one more time?” Steve asked as Darcy hurried out of her work clothes and threw them in the laundry basket.

She heard Charlotte clear her throat. “ _All I hear lately is buy this, and spend money on that_ ,” she said, reciting her line for her school pageant. “ _My email is_ bursting _with sales and deals_!” Darcy snickered at Charlotte’s dramatic sigh. “ _Is that_ really _all the holidays mean anymore_?”

“That’s good,” Steve said, a smile evident in his voice. Darcy slipped the blouse over her head and yanked on her pants. “You feel okay about it?”

“Kinda nervous,” Charlotte admitted. “I might mess up.”

“That’s fair,” Steve said evenly while Darcy dabbed concealer under her eyes and unearthed her foundation from her makeup bag. “But what will happen if you do?” There was a long, uncertain pause from his daughter before he continued. “What’s your line introducing?”

“The song we’re going to sing,” she answered. “We Need a Little Christmas.”

“Okay,” Steve continued. “So, what’s your line got to do with that song?”

Another pause before Charlotte answered thoughtfully. “Just that it doesn’t feel like Christmas because everyone only talks about money and shopping.”

“Right,” Steve agreed. “That’s a pretty easy idea to remember, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So it’s okay if you don’t remember all the words—even though I know you know them,” he added quickly. “As long as you get the idea across, you’ll be fine.”

Darcy had finished what makeup she was going to apply and returned to the bathroom doorway, spying the necklace she wanted to wear on the jewelry dish next to Steve’s Saint Joseph’s medal. Steve was tying a black, satin ribbon at the gathered end of Charlotte’s hair. “Look okay?” he asked his daughter, noticing her critical gaze on the top of her head, appearing to study the structural integrity of the French braid. Darcy handed him the tall can of hairspray from the corner she could reach from her place by the door.

Charlotte patted her hair carefully and turned her head side-to-side before she smiled at her father’s reflection in the mirror. “It looks great,” she said finally. “You always do it perfect, Dad.”

Darcy watched Steve pretend not to melt at Charlotte’s compliment as he uncapped the hairspray. “Incoming,” he warned. Charlotte grinned and made a big show of holding her breath before she clapped her hands over her face. Steve—obviously wary of having to redo his braid work—doused her head in hairspray, effectively cementing her look for the evening.

She coughed anyway as she lowered her hands and hopped down from her stool. She grinned up at Darcy. “You look so pretty!” she declared.

“Thank you,” Darcy accepted with a laugh. “I’m really just trying to keep up with the two of you,” she motioned to them both and let out a low whistle. “This is one fly-looking family I’m rolling with.”

Charlotte giggled and moved out of the way for Darcy to grab her necklace before she took her hand and squeezed. “I’m so excited to show you my school, Darcy.”

Darcy checked herself once more in the mirror—good enough, she decided—and laughed. “I’ve seen your school, you nut.”

They headed back into the hallway while Steve messed with his own hair for a second.  
“But that was just at pick-up,” Charlotte reminded her. “This time you get to see the whole thing and meet my teacher and you’re going to be in the audience like the other—” she stopped herself and bit her lip. “I’m just excited,” she said after a moment, clearly rethinking her words.

_Like the other moms_ , Darcy was sure she’d been about to say, and she suddenly felt almost dizzy with affection for the little girl in front of her. She crouched down to be at eye-level and placed her hands on Charlotte’s shoulders. “I’m excited too,” she said softly. “I heard you practicing your line,” she added. “You’re going to be great.”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows dubiously. “You think?”

“I know,” she assured her before she frowned and rubbed Charlotte’s bare arms. “You’re also going to freeze,” she said as she stood up. “Don’t you have a little sweater or something?”

“I’ll be fine,” Charlotte shrugged and headed toward the stairs.

Steve cleared his throat and stopped her in her tracks. “Pretty sure there’s a black sweater in your closet that needs to be on your body before you go down those stairs,” he said without any room for argument in his voice.

Darcy bit back a smile as Charlotte’s shoulders dropped with the heaviest of sighs and she did as she was told. She leaned in the bathroom doorway and watched Steve wash the hairspray and gel off his hands.

“What do I have to do to get you to French braid _my_ hair?” she asked, teasingly.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Your hair scares me,” he said, reaching out to twirl a lock of it around his finger. “So thick and curly…” he shook his head. “I could get lost for days in there.”

Darcy laughed and removed his hand from her curls to twist their fingers together. “So, anything I need to know about Charlotte’s school?” she asked, only half-teasing. “Are you going to give me the rundown on the parent politics and tell me who to avoid?”

“Daddy hates all the other parents,” Charlotte said plainly as she passed the bathroom again, a black cardigan in hand.

Steve sighed as Darcy laughed. They followed Charlotte down the stairs. “I don’t _hate_ the other parents,” he said with indignation, glancing at his watch.

“Sorry,” Charlotte looked at Darcy over her shoulder. “Just the moms. He said they’re vacuums.”

“Charlotte—” her father warned as they reached the foot of the stairs.

“Well you wouldn’t call someone you _liked_ a vacuum, Dad,” she reasoned while she began to dig for her dress shoes in the basket. “It doesn’t sound very nice.”

Darcy looked at Steve, biting back another grin. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a pained expression on his face. “I didn’t call them vacuums,” he said patiently. “I called them _vacuous_ , which is not a word you need to know the definition of right now and I never said any of this to you, you, young lady,” he reminded. “I said it to Uncle Sam and you weren’t supposed to hear it so if I ever hear you repeating it outside of this house—”

“I know,” Charlotte held up a hand behind her, seeming about fifteen years old as she did so. “I wake up Mad Dad and he takes away all my toys and gives me extra chores instead.” She stood up, clutching a pair of patent leather mary-janes and Darcy’s black heels in her hands. “Anyway, Mrs. Li is really nice—she’s Theo’s mom—he’s my friend. And so is Mr. Jovanovic—we all call him Mr. J. There are two Mr. J’s, actually,” she added thoughtfully. “Because Ilsa has two dads. Anyway, they’re both really nice and Dad likes them—right?” she asked, looking past Darcy at Steve, who was resignedly tying his shoes.

“I like everyone,” he argued, sounding tired.

“But Riley and Dylan’s mom…” Charlotte rolled her eyes and placed her foot up onto the stair to fasten the buckle on the side. “She’s a piece of work.”

Darcy, who had been desperately trying to keep a straight face, snorted and clapped a hand over her mouth at the phrase Charlotte had so obviously borrowed from her father. She glanced over at Steve, pleased to find him fighting a laugh as well. “Which one is that?” she asked.

“Pilates Mom,” Steve supplied as he straightened up. “I think you met her before. Tall, thin, blonde…”

Darcy squinted. “Always kind of panicked and seems really busy?” Steve nodded. “Oh, yeah, she used to pick Charlotte up from school sometimes, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said gruffly. “Don’t bring that up.”

“Noted,” Darcy said with a nod, still grinning.

Charlotte looked out the window beside the door and shrugged into her coat. “The Lyft’s here,” she said without preamble.

“There is a God,” Steve muttered under his breath as he handed Darcy her coat and held open the door.  
  
***  
  
They dropped Charlotte off at the auditorium and followed the bright, glittered red arrows and signs that read _Family and Friends Reception This Way!_ Darcy heard the din of parents and teachers well before they reached the gym and felt her stomach do an unpleasant and unexpected flip of anxiety.

Steve grabbed her hand and stopped her a few yards from the door. “I have a confession to make,” he said suddenly.

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Charlotte was right. I hate just about everybody in that room. They’re always trying to rope me into some drama with their kids or get me to donate something for some charity or volunteer to help with some class project—” he stopped and shook his head. “And all they ever want to do is talk about their kids and tell me who’s gifted and who’s reading ahead of her grade level and who’s dad is taking the family to Vienna for the holiday and—”

Darcy reached up and gently covered his mouth with her hand. “Sounds absolutely awful,” she assured him, honestly. “But your distaste for it is also pretty refreshing.” She grinned and dropped her hand to replace it with her lips in a quick, stolen kiss. “And I want to see all these vacuums for myself,” she teased. “They can’t be all that bad.”

“They’re not,” he relented, taking her hand again. “I’m just being an asshole. The working parents are nice—the ones Charlotte mentioned. I do like them. They’re considerably more chill.”

She shrugged. “So, we’ll just hang with them, then.”

And for the first ten minutes, that’s what they did. Darcy was introduced to the three parents on Charlotte’s safe list—Casey and Wes Jovanovic and Trina Li—and found herself almost enjoying the casual gossip being swapped back and forth. Steve had been seized almost immediately by someone who introduced herself as the president of the PTO—no first or last name, Darcy noted, just a very important title—about designing a template for the school newsletters and had been spirited away before he could introduce her to anyone else.

And if she had to be left with anyone, Darcy decided she could have been in much worse company. Trina was an ER surgeon with a bright, disarming smile and a self-deprecating sense of humor that Darcy liked immediately. Wes was a lawyer and Casey, a social worker, both working actively in the refugee centers around the city and seeming to radiate compassion and genuine interest in what she had to say.

She had just returned to their little cluster with another paper cup of punch for herself and one for Casey when Trina brightened and turned to her. “What days do you typically have off, Darcy?”

“Sundays and Mondays, usually,” she answered, handing off the extra cup. “But I’m usually out by around two or three every other day. What’s up?” she asked, wondering if she was going to be roped into picking up someone’s child or dropping someone off.

Not that that would be the worst thing in the world, she reasoned.

“We were just talking about how busy everyone is,” Wes chimed in. “And how nice it would be to get together away from all this,” he motioned to the chatter and commotion behind them. “Case and I wanted to invite you and Steve and Charlotte over for coffee some morning when you’re not working. And Trina and James can bring Theo and Lizzie, and we’ll all hang out and the kids can play together now that the basement is refinished.”

Darcy blinked. “Uh, yeah,” she said, haltingly. “Yeah, that sounds—nice, actually.” She glanced at their amused expressions and laughed. “Sorry, I’ve never been part of anyone’s play date invitation before,” she admitted.

Trina laughed and put a quick arm around her shoulders in a warm, welcoming squeeze. “We were all just talking about how nobody knows how to make friends as adults anymore,” she explained, with another glance around the room. “But if the kids can do it, why can’t we, right?

“Why can’t we do what?” Steve asked as he returned, looking a little harried.

“Make friends with other parents,” Wes said pleasantly.

“We’ve been invited for a playdate at Wes and Casey’s house,” Darcy informed him with a smile that she hoped communicated that she was a little out of her depth, hoping he’d take over.

Steve smiled. “That sounds really nice,” he said, sounding genuine. “Maybe we could plan for something after Christmas? When the kids are off?’

Darcy felt a little swell of relief as the topic bounced quickly from scheduling to a story about Trina’s in-laws visiting from China over Thanksgiving that had everyone laughing until the smile fell from Casey’s face suddenly as he looked over their shoulders.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he muttered, nodding for them to turn around. Two women were arguing in the doorway of the gym. Well, one was arguing—gesticulating wildly and pointing—while the other stood with her back very straight, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, not saying anything. Darcy recognized the silent woman as Miss Oswald, Charlotte’s teacher and she felt her face fold in confusion.

“Is she okay?” she asked, glancing from the scene in front of them back to Steve, whose own face had fallen into one of resigned irritation. “What? Who is that?”

“That’s Stasia Wells,” Wes supplied helpfully.  
Steve sighed and ran a hand over his face as the duo started walking their way. “That’s Grayson’s mom.”

Darcy frowned. “That little shit that won’t leave Charlotte alone?”

“Ugh,” groaned Trina. “I hate that kid.”

“Seems like she wants to talk to you,” Casey said, downing the last of his punch. “We’re gonna go.” He paused and placed a hand on Darcy’s arm before he dropped his voice. “But please sit with us and tell us what happens.”

Suppressing a smile, Darcy slipped her hand into Steve’s and gave him a quick squeeze. “Do you want me to stay or go?”

But if Steve had a preference, he didn’t get a chance to voice it before they were approached by the bristling Mrs. Wells and the apologetic, frustrated Miss Oswald.

“Steve.” Stasia Wells was exceptionally tall for a woman—almost as tall as Steve—with shoulder-length blonde hair that fell in well-styled waves and a gorgeous dove gray suit that Darcy guessed cost as much as their monthly mortgage payment. Her features were chiseled, angular, and her eyes were a striking green that would have made her  beautiful if she looked like she ever smiled.

But judging by the icy chill in her voice and the square set of her jaw, Darcy couldn’t imagine smiling was something Stasia Wells did very often.

Although, she reasoned with herself, if she had a kid like Grayson, she probably wouldn’t smile too much either.

Steve’s expression looked pained again as he straightened up to his full height and took in a measured breath. “Stasia,” he said evenly. “Is everything okay?”

“No, it isn’t—”

“We had a little incident,” Miss Oswald rushed ahead before Stasia could unleash what was brewing just below the surface. “This afternoon, when the children were rehearsing for tonight’s production.” She coughed delicately. “Between Charlotte and Grayson.”

Steve and Darcy exchanged looks. “She didn’t say anything about it when she got home,” Steve said, confused. “What happened? Are they both okay?”

“No,” Stasia cut in. “No they are not both okay, Steve. Your daughter—once again— _attacked_ my son.”

Steve’s head snapped back in surprise. “I’m sorry,” he blinked. “She did what?”

“See?” Stasia made a flippant gesture to the two of them and turned back to the teacher. “That girl does whatever she pleases with apparently no one at home having any idea.”

Darcy felt a bubble of anger begin to rise in her stomach at the implication that there was something wrong with Steve’s parenting. But she kept her mouth firmly shut, reminding herself that they didn’t know what was going on—and this wasn’t really her fight.

Steve held up a hand. “Hang on,” he said, any edge of pleasantry gone from his voice. “Before you go crucifying my kid, can I at least hear what happened?” Stasia opened her mouth once more but Steve turned pointedly to Miss Oswald. “From you, please?”

The fourth-grade teacher stuffed back the hint of a smile before anyone but Darcy noticed and took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, as you know, we’ve had some trouble with the way Grayson expresses his feelings—especially when it comes to Charlotte,” she said in the most diplomatic manner she could muster. “And for her part,” she rushed on quickly as Stasia began to bristle once more, “Charlotte is a very opinionated little girl who—we all know—has no problem making those opinions known.”

“Stop dancing around the issue,” Stasia snapped. “Your daughter shoved my son off the risers this afternoon and nearly broke his collarbone.”

“ _What_?” Steve demanded. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Miss Oswald assured him.

“We don’t know that!” Stasia insisted. “We have an appointment for a second opinion first thing tomorrow morning.” She wheeled back on the teacher. “Why is it he’s just hearing about this now?” she demanded. “Why is it up to me to be the one demanding that girl be held accountable for her actions?”

“Mrs. Wells,” Miss Oswald took another deep breath. “The riser Grayson fell from was only three feet tall at the most. I checked him over myself and took him to the nurse to be safe. He’s perfectly fine. And more to the point, I had asked him at least two times to leave Charlotte alone, after she very clearly asked him herself.”

That bubble of anger had tripled in size with each word that spewed from Stasia Wells’ face. Still, Darcy forced her mouth to stay closed as Steve’s expression changed. “So, wait,” he frowned, glancing between the two of them. “You’re telling me that Charlotte asked him to leave her alone, then you did,” he pointed to the teacher. “Twice? And he still didn’t listen?”

“She _shoved him off the risers,_ ” Stasia exclaimed, keeping her voice to a remarkably terrifying whisper. “If you’re telling me that you condone this kind of violent behavior at home—”

“No,” Steve cut in, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. And if she really did push him, then I promise, there will be consequences,” he said.

“If?” Stasia repeated incredulously. “If she really pushed him?”

“She’s not a violent kid,” Steve argued. “She’s never instigated a fight in her life and I’m going to go out on a limb and say that if the teacher—who was there, by the way, when neither of us were—says she asked him to back off, then he probably needed to back off. And if he wasn’t smart enough to do that,” he shrugged. “Maybe it’s no surprise he got shoved off the risers.”

Stasia steadied herself with a deep inhale through her nose. “And this is the kind of example you want to set for your daughter?” she asked finally. “That if she has a problem with someone, she can just shove them out of the way if they don’t do what she wants?”

Any resolve about staying out of it snapped inside of Darcy’s head and she opened her mouth before she could think better of it. “And what about the example you’re setting for Grayson?” she demanded, surprising all three of them with the question.

Stasia blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re literally telling him every time Charlotte—or any other little girl—tells him no and to leave her alone, that her needs are less important than his. And that it’s _okay_ to ignore what she’s telling him,” she continued, feeling her face heating up as she felt the words lining up to spill past her lips. “I mean, Jesus Christ, where do think those creeps who follow you for three extra blocks or grab your ass on the subway or hit on you at the gym get the idea that _that’s_ okay? Charlotte’s told him ‘no’ a million times since first grade and he still won’t leave her alone! You’re raising a little Brock Turner, lady! Get in there and course-correct!”

A stunned silence had fallen over their corner of the room. Even the parents who had been pretending not to listen had widened their eyes at Darcy’s outburst. Stasia’s own eyes had grown large and her lips parted in surprise.

Almost instantly, Darcy wanted to clap her hand over her mouth. Not that what she’d said wasn’t true—but this was clearly not the time or place to say it. And more to the point, as she felt the blush rising to her cheeks, it was becoming abundantly clear that this wasn’t how you were supposed to talk to someone else about their child.

Before anyone could speak, their attention was snatched to the small podium at the front of the room as a kind faced woman with sandy blonde hair and a ridiculous Christmas sweater stepped up to the microphone and gave it an experimental tap. “Hello everyone!” she greeted with a big smile. “I’ve just been told by our music director that your children are ready to wow you with all their hard work and excitement for the holiday season.” She spoke slowly and with perfect enunciation—obviously the result of a lifetime in elementary education. “If you would be so kind as to make your way down the hall to the auditorium, our program is about to begin,” she pointed toward the double doors and then waved at the crowd. “Thank you all so much for coming!”

Miss Oswald seized her opportunity. “It’s obvious that we need to have a meeting with both Charlotte and Grayson to discuss classroom behavior.” Her eyes moved between Steve and Stasia. “I think it would be very helpful if all the parents were in attendance as well.”

Stasia stood up even taller and slid her gaze from Darcy to Miss Oswald. “You have my email,” she said in a cool, clipped tone. “I’ll make myself available.”

Miss Oswald offered Steve and Darcy a tight smile as Stasia stalked away. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I should have called you this afternoon when it happened—this wasn’t the place for this kind of conversation.”

“It’s fine,” Steve assured her, the tension in his shoulders had begun to relax. “I'm happy to shuffle my schedule around for that meeting,” he added. “Just let me know when.”

“Of course,” she smiled before she turned to Darcy. “I'm Julia Oswald, by the way, we haven't had a chance to be introduced yet.”

Darcy shook her hand as Steve's arm wrapped around her again. “Sorry,” he apologized. “This is Darcy, my better half.” 

“Born with my feet in my mouth,” she said apologetically. “It's nice to meet you—Charlotte loves being in your class.”

At the mention of the word ‘class’ Julia snapped back into action and checked the watch on her slim wrist. “I've got to get backstage,” she said and excused herself, leaving them alone and Darcy with a knot in her stomach. 

Steve didn't say anything as they filed out with the group, but waited until they'd left the gym before he took hold of her hand again. She frowned in surprise when he tugged her away from the group and pulled her down an abandoned hallway. She swallowed hard. “Feel free to tell me to stay in my lane or—” 

The rest of her sentence was cut off as Steve pushed her against the row of short lockers and covered her mouth with his. His hands gripped possessively at her hips and she felt her surprise melt into desire when he coaxed her lips apart and brushed his tongue against hers. “That was the hottest thing I've ever seen,” he said finally when they broke apart. 

Darcy shook off her confusion and felt a wide smile come across her face. “You don't think I was out of line?” 

Steve pulled back from where he'd been nuzzling her ear. “Oh, you were probably completely out of line, but it was amazing to watch.” 

She shrugged, hoping to downplay the sense of pride his compliment had instilled. “I'm just sick of that kid messing with our girl,” she said honestly. “And his mother looks like she was born a Republican so I'm sure my little outburst went right over her head.”

Steve grinned and leaned in to kiss her again but she laughed and turned her head. “Come on,” she said grudgingly. “We have to go watch the show.”

He sighed heavily but straightened up with reluctance and took her hand again. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “And I thought that second grade recorder performance was going to be painful before...”

***

The recorder performance was predictably painful. But the kindergarteners were adorable, the songs and choreography very well-rehearsed, and when it was time for the fourth grade to perform, Charlotte delivered her line quickly, but loud and clear without any hitches.

Steve waited until he was seated in a booth beside his daughter, alternating between stealing bites of her brownie sundae and Darcy’s strawberry shortcake, before he cleared his throat and folded his hands in front of him on the table. “Charlotte,” he began, his tone immediately pulling the smile from Charlotte’s face. “Did something happen at school today that you want to tell me about?”

Charlotte swallowed a mouthful of ice cream too quickly. Darcy watched her wince as it slid down her throat. She took a deep breath. “Grayson wouldn’t stop pulling my hair while were practicing today,” she said in a calm, measured tone. “So I shoved him and he fell off the risers.”

Steve pursed his lips and nodded. “Did you try asking him to leave you alone before you shoved him?”

She sighed. “Yeah,” she said indignantly. “But he’s such an moron, he doesn’t listen. Not even to the teacher, and she told him to stop it too.”

“Hey,” Steve warned, but Darcy could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Don’t call names.”

“Sorry,” she said immediately. “And I didn’t know he was so close to the edge of the risers,” she added. “And I said I was sorry after he fell. Even though I wasn’t.” She looked up plaintively. “Am I in trouble?”

Steve put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. “No,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “Grayson’s mom and dad and I are going to have a nice long talk with Miss Oswald next week. We’re not doing this anymore,” he said firmly. “He’s bothered you long enough.”

Steve got up to pay not long after, as Darcy and Charlotte were both scraping the last of their sundaes from their glass bowls.

Charlotte waited until he was out of earshot before she lowered her voice, eyes wide. “Did you _really_ yell at Grayson’s mom in front of everyone?”

Darcy’s eyes widened too. “How did you hear about that?”

“I heard Miss Oswald talking to Mr. Green about it,” Charlotte explained quickly. “Did you really do it?”

She pursed her lips and glanced down at her empty ice cream bowl. “Yes,” she said quickly. “And between you and me? I’d totally do it again.”

Charlotte’s grin widened, dimpling both of her rosy cheeks. She took her final bite of brownie and ice cream, unable to contain her glee. “She’s a total vacuum, huh?”

Darcy snorted and tapped her spoon to Charlotte’s in solidarity. “Total vacuum.”

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Share the love on Tumblr @idontgettechnology and check out ishipitpod.com for more fanfic fun
> 
> *blows kisses*


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